


forty-six.

by doctorkaitlyn



Series: tumblr fics & ficlets. [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mild Blood, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia loses Kira for forty-six hours.</p><p>Written for day two of Malira Week 2014, using the prompt Alternate Universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forty-six.

It happens on a day where the world is still and quiet, where the sky is bright and cloudless and no wind stirs the trees. It's supposed to be an easy day (as easy as they get in this day and age), a quick in and out supply run in a nearby town that hadn't been raided too horribly after things went to shit, a town that reeks more of still, rotting corpses than reanimated ones. There are six of them that go in: Scott, Allison, Isaac, Derek, Malia and Kira, more than enough people to get everything they need, more than enough people to keep an eye out. 

But something happens. After they stock up on canned goods from a food bank in the basement of a church, they hit up an furniture store to take the slightly mouldering blankets off of the model beds and it's there that they let their guard down, just slightly, all of them. They set their heavy packs down for just a few moments and flop down on the beds, groaning with happiness; even though the springs in the mattresses have started to rot, they still feel heavenly compared to the cots that await them all back at base camp. 

It's just a few moments, three minutes at the max, three minutes where Malia stops worrying in favor of laying on a memory foam mattress, Kira pressed against her side, her katana the only reminder that they're not just testing out furniture for an apartment, that the world as they knew it ended over a year ago, replaced by one that smells like rotting flesh and blood. 

Three minutes is all it takes. Mere seconds after Kira presses a kiss to her temple, Malia is running for her life through darkened hallways. The zombies had come out of nowhere, dozens upon dozens of them, easily crashing through the half-assed barricade they'd erected in front of the store's front door. She can hear them behind her, closing in, stumbling into the walls and she doesn't dare look back. It's only after she runs back out into the sunshine, blinking at the sudden transition, that she realizes Kira isn't behind her anymore. 

"Kira?" she asks, whipping around, her tangled hair flying in front of her eyes. The others are just ahead of her but Kira is nowhere to be found and Malia frantically inhales, trying to hone in on her scent. It's a lost cause, buried underneath everything else but she can hear a heartbeat inside and it's her, it's Kira, she has to-

She's barely taken two steps back towards the door when Scott's arms wrap around her waist, pulling her away even when she digs her heels into the ground and screams. She claws at his arms and tries to bite him but still, he doesn't let go. He just keeps pulling, nearly picking her off of the ground, whispering _I'm sorry_ over and over again. 

He doesn't let go of her and he doesn't stop apologizing until they've made it back to their vehicle, parked in the woods just outside of town. As soon as he loosens his arms, Malia drops to her knees, a howl ripping from her throat, tears burning down her cheeks. 

She'd heard Derek say once that losing a member of the pack was like losing one of your limbs, but losing Kira doesn't feel like that. Losing Kira feels like she's been torn apart and scattered to the winds.

&. 

She doesn't remember the trip back to camp. She doesn't remember getting back to her own tent and she doesn't remember screaming until her throat's raw. When she slowly, shakily comes back to reality, the first thing she does is look at the watch around her wrist. It's a tiny, gold thing, nothing she would have picked out for herself but Kira had brought it back for her one day and secured it around her wrist with a bashful smile and although Malia almost never uses it to check the time, she's never taken it off. 

It's four o'clock in the afternoon. 

She isn't the first person in camp to lose someone and she knows that she won't be the last. She also knows that some of the others have kept track of how long it's been since they lost someone; she's only been in Allison and Scott's tent a few times, but she's seen the rows upon rows of lines carved into the chest sitting at the foot of their cot, one for each day Allison has been without her dad. 

For Malia, an hour without Kira is too long. A day, a month, a _year_? That's all completely incomprehensible. 

She flicks her claws out, carefully scratches four uneven, wavering lines into the metal frame of the cot and falls asleep trying not to howl. 

When she wakes up again, she adds four more.

&. 

She's in the process of adding the forty sixth line when she hears people running past the tent. At first, she just ignores them; people never stop running anymore, it's nothing new. But then she hears someone yell to open the gate, followed by murmurs and snatches of conversation. She manages to catch one such murmur in its entirety and although it's only two words, it's enough to get her off the cot, leaving the forty sixth line only partially completed. 

_She's alive._

There are a number of people crowded around the entrance to the camp, gawking and whispering, all of them in her way. She shoves past a few of them, not-so accidentally elbows someone in the ribs and finally makes it to the front of the crowd just in time for her heart to screech to a halt at the sight before her. 

Kira's almost unrecognizable underneath dark streaks of blood and dried chunks of gore. The blade of her katana is black with grime and her tights have been torn to shreds, exposing patches of skin that are just as filthy as the rest of her. As she continues forward, Malia realizes that she's limping, dragging her left leg behind her slightly.

She raises her head, eyes the only part of her face not covered in dirt or blood and just like that, Malia moves. She doesn't so much meet Kira as she does crash into her, thrusting her hands into her matted hair, finding her mouth and not letting go of it. It's only after all the breath has been leeched from her lungs that she pulls away, resting her forehead against Kira's, wishing she had the words to tell her how much she's missed her, how she never really knew the meaning of agony until she was dragged away from the store. 

But she's pretty sure that Kira knows all of that. So instead, she just coughs and nuzzles her cheek against Kira's, pressing her lips to a tiny patch of clear skin underneath her ear. 

"You smell disgusting," she mutters and Kira actually _laughs_ and even if it sounds wearied and marked with more than a bit of pain, it brings a smile to Malia's face. 

"So do you." Her lips begin to quirk up, like she's going to return the smile but just like that, she goes completely limp in Malia's arms, sword dropping to the ground. When Malia tilts her head upward, she sees that Kira's eyes are rolled back into her head and for a few seconds, she thinks that she's going to hear nothing but silence when she listens for Kira's heartbeat.

But today is not that day. 

She carries Kira to the medical tent herself and only leaves when Lydia practically shoves her out, saying that Melissa needs room to work and Malia is crowding her. Malia growls at her for good measure before she heads over to the area where Stiles and Danny have managed to hook up some rudimentary shower booths. 

Kira's right; she _does_ smell disgusting.

&. 

It's nearly midnight before Kira comes back to her for good. Malia had tried to sneak back into the medical tent to see her again but she'd been caught every time and after attempt number five was thwarted by Scott (who she can still hardly look at without wanting to scream), she'd decided to give up and just wait. 

She's on the verge of falling asleep from sheer boredom when Kira slides through the open tent flap, zipping it up behind her. Her hair is damp, hanging loosely against her shoulders and she's wearing different clothes Malia has never seen before, a loose beige tank top and dark cargo pants that must have come from the supply depot. She's still dragging her leg behind her and now that the dirt and blood has been removed, Malia can see numerous bruises and shallow cuts littering her bare arms. She's clearly still exhausted but she's so beautiful that Malia can't help but close her eyes and pinch herself because there's no way that this isn't a dream. There's no way that Kira actually came back to her, not after forty-six hours. 

Yet when she opens them again, Kira is still there. Better yet, she's sitting on the edge of the cot, kicking her grimy boots off and laying back until she's pressed between Malia and the canvas wall of the tent. 

"Hey," she murmurs, turning onto her side and wincing slightly. Even though she's a lot cleaner, underneath the smell of soap and shampoo, Malia can still smell _them_ , clinging to Kira's skin. She ducks her head and presses her cheek against Kira's neck, taking a moment to listen to her pulse (just to be sure) before she nuzzles into her throat, pressing a kiss to a purple bruise dotting her shoulder. 

"Malia, I'm still too-"

"I know," Malia interrupts, absently brushing her thumb over Kira's hip. "I know. But you don't smell like me anymore. You still smell... like them." 

"Oh. Okay," Kira murmurs, her fingers coming up to card through Malia's hair. Malia turns to rub her cheek along her wrist before she continues down Kira's body, pressing herself against her breasts and her stomach. By the time she reaches Kira's waist, the kitsune's eyes have drifted closed. She stirs enough to help Malia tug her pants down her legs and she makes a quiet noise when Malia nuzzles against the inside of her thigh but by the time Malia has successfully eradicated that awful dead scent in favor of her own, Kira's fallen asleep. 

Malia's not far behind her; she falls asleep with her head tucked underneath Kira's chin, lulled into unconsciousness by the sound of her girlfriend's pulse thrumming underneath her skin.

&. 

When Malia wakes up, she's facing the opposite direction and her hand is dangling over the edge of the cot. She can feel some of the forty-six lines she'd carved into the metal frame pressed against the skin of her wrist. Without even opening her eyes, she flicks her claws out and starts crossing them out, only wincing slightly at the awful sound the action makes. She isn't quite finished when there's movement behind her as Kira shifts over, her body automatically curling against Malia's. 

"What's that noise?" she mumbles into Malia's hair. Malia thinks about telling her the truth but instead, she sheaths her claws again and rolls over, finally opening her eyes just in time for Kira to be the first thing she sees. 

"Nothing," she says quietly, brushing a thick lock of Kira's hair away from her face. "It doesn't matter anymore." Technically speaking, that's isn't a lie; the lines engraved into their bed aren't important anymore. What _is_ important is that those forty-six hours are in the past, that those lines are _never_ going to be joined by any others, not so long as Malia stays alive and breathing. 

Oh, and the fact that Kira is smiling and leaning in for a kiss, her bare leg sliding between Malia's? That's the most important thing of all.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
